


Such Small Things

by Damatris



Series: A song you know's begun [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And is aware, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Getting to Know Each Other, Introspection, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Mostly Gen, POV Jaskier| Dandelion, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damatris/pseuds/Damatris
Summary: "Toss a coin to your Witcher" Jaskier sang. "Toss a coin to your Bard" he meant. At first.It had started with a booing audience, bread in his pants and one prickly Witcher. Then, like all the best stories, things took a dramatic twist down hill before starting to look up again. And Jaskier lived for good stories.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: A song you know's begun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660609
Comments: 12
Kudos: 578





	Such Small Things

"Toss a coin to your Witcher" Jaskier sang. "Toss a coin to your Bard" he meant. At first.

It had started with a booing audience, bread in his pants and one prickly Witcher. Then, like all the best stories, things took a dramatic twist down hill before starting to look up again. And Jaskier lived for good stories.

Armed with a couple of bruises, talent for music and a new elven lute he made the excellent and rash decision to continue following Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. That so called title Jaskier was determined to change into something of his own creation, something more heroic. Being able to usurp such a thing would surely make for a great legacy, especially combined with all the songs he would compose.

And frankly, as striking as someone being regularly called the Butcher was, it also left a bad taste in Jaskier's mouth. They might have just met but in his professional opinion the Butcher wasn't fitting. Geralt might be violent, gloomy and uncouth but he didn't go around killing on a whim.

Words were important, names even more so.

It was a good thing Jaskier had never been one to quit when things got hard. Lesser men wouldn't have even approached the Witcher, most men would have left after a punch to the gut. Yet the bard continued walking in his fashionable but chaffing boots, trying to coax more than a grunt of a response to his attempted conversation starters. Which turned into monologs but, well, it still was better than no one to talk with. At. Silence of a refused acknowledgement was always preferred over the surrounding silence of being alone. And despite of Geralt's hostile mood and barbed insults Jaskier knew at least some of it was simply a facade. It would have been so easy to leave him alone, eating the dust whipped up by Roach's galloping hooves.

No one riding a horse could claim to be stuck with a walking man.

With each mile and his blisters growing blisters Jaskier's mood continued to lift. Although, he really could do without the hurting feet. If Geralt wanted him to march all day, he deserved to hear every agony he endured. In great detail. And no threat would be enough to quell his complaints.

While he did enjoy, very much so, soft beds, warm baths, delicious meals and other creature comforts, there had always been a unique happiness in traveling to different places. Nothing was more inspiring than new sceneries and experiences. Even rigorous pace and a traveling companion who made his own horse look chatty didn't sour Jaskier's mood in the slightest. On the contrary, the more time he spent in Geralt's company, the more fascinating the Witcher became.

Not only was he easy on the eyes with his broad frame, bright yellow eyes and stunning contrast of white hair against black armor but the increasing glimpses of the man underneath all the scowling and stoic silences kept drawing him in.

There were the obvious. The things that would be the backbone of the songs and ballads of gallant deeds and dangers of facing such monstrous foes as the Witcher did. Geralt's strength and flashing blades, his magic and mysterious potions, the Witcher's Path and dedication to ensuring the safety of those who couldn't save themselves. Jaskier included. If he ever stretched the truth, it was all in the name of art. Like he had told Geralt, honesty and making history rarely walked hand in hand.

Getting the coin, applause and adoration of the crowds was preferred to delivering a dry, matter of fact report consisting mostly of "I cut its head off. The end." like when Geralt absolutely forbid Jaskier from following him on a hunt and tried to later tell how it went. Slowly Geralt started to describe his quests in more detail, to avoid the bard's nattering and persistent questions as he put it.

Jaskier wasn't convinced the change was purely for practical purposes no matter what Geralt said. No one could spend as much time around a master story teller as the Witcher did and not pick up a thing or two.

Then there were the small things. Things that seemed almost too insignificant compared to the bold ones. These were the ones that Jaskier kept for himself, out of strangers' ears and mouths set on gossiping. Stored in his memory and composed in small poems safely tucked away from prying eyes. Sometimes even Jaskier himself wondered if he was reading Geralt wrong, too eager to know him better, forgetting to look at those gestures objectively. But he had always listened more to his heart than the hard logic that tried to thump some sense into him.

The quiet encouragements and careful grooming for Roach. The way Geralt started to answer him with more and more words with less and less prompting. The half smile that tugged on the Witcher's mouth on rare occasions. How he seemed to always be aware of Jaskier's placement or making sure the bard had the thicker blanket.

Such small things that fanned a warmth in his chest with the knowledge that he was being let in. Tiny hesitant steps, much of it subconsciously and always a chance of everything collapsing like a house of cards. Yet there was a soft smile on Jaskier's lips whenever he thought of the future. One day they could and would be something more than just a loner Witcher following the Path and his annoying tag-along bard chasing after wealth and fame.

After all, one half of the equation had already changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Not writing prose for 8 years and then I start it by making one shots of Jaskier and Geralt. Who would have guessed?


End file.
